To the Same Heights
by MiyukiGainsborough
Summary: 'Agent Barton was sent to kill me...he made a different call.' What was it really that made him go against procedure?
1. Enter Spider and Hawk

**MiyukiGainsborough: This is my first Clintasha [or as I like to call them; BlackHawk] fic ever. Well, besides for a few drabbles here and there. This is the topic that is so popular right now with fans; the first time Clint and Natasha met. So, I wont keep you anymore. Enjoy!**

****Moscow, Russia...

The clicking of heels along the marble floor echoed through the hotel's lobby as the slender female appraoched the front desk. He red painted lips curled into a kind smile as she lowered her sunglasses, her bright, green eyes met with those of the desk clerk. "I need a suite for three dats and four nights," she told him, sliding her credit card towards him. The male nodded and took the card to swipe it.

As the suite was being purchased, her eyes scanned over the large lobby at the different people who stood around. CEOs, goveners from the States, a president or two, and even a mob boss. That was where he eyes stopped. A tall, beefy looking man in a slick, navy blue suit standing beside an even beefier looking man and speaking with a president's wide. "Say, is that Sidor Konovaloc, CEO of Konovalov Corp.?" she asked the clerk, her eyes staying on the target. The male answered and told her of the annual charity auction that was being held that weekend. It was said that this would be Konovalov's first year joining them for the auction. 'And his last,' she thought to herself. She thanked the desk clerk and took her room key from him.

As she walked to the elevator, the bus boy following right behind with her bags, she glanced over to Konovalov and locked eyes with him, just as she pushed her sunglasses back up. Such a powerful mafia boss surely would know the look in one's eyes when they are planning to kill you. Maybe he would have caught the muderous gleam in her eyes and would double his security in the days to come. She admitted that it would make his assassination more fun for her.

She had the bus boy in and out of the suite faster than ever, encouraging his speed with a two thousand ruble tip, and was straight to her planning. Her multiple suitcases were placed on the large beg and opened for her to dig through the contents. Casual and formal wear were pulled from the cases and placed on hangers in the closet, along with shoes and other items that worked her disguises. The only things that stayed inside the suitcases were the various small weapons she would use to complete her mission. Of course, she wouldn't take care of the job that night. She had the suite for three days so she would take her time like always and watch over the target, studying his actions in the hotel and figuring out what would be the best way to end his life and when. The same basic routine as the rest of her mission though she never tired of it. Every mission brought its fun and every mission ended in it's own special way.

Stepping to one of the large widows in her suite, she removed her sunglasses and stared out at the setting sun. She could already tell that this mission was going to be different than the others. When she had entered the hotel, she had felt an odd, almost uneasy precense that seemed to be watching her. Someone knew who she was and why she was there.

"Let me do my job, Coulson." Clint Barton, dressed in a black suit, complimented with a black shirt and tie, walked into the hotel, hanging up on his fellow agent. If there was one thing he had grown tired of, was the constant handling of his seniors. He was new to the job and knew that it meant he would have an exceptional close watch on him, but regardless, he knew deep down, that no matter the cost, his mission would be executed according to the procedure. Although...procedure was boing.

He had been assigned to take out an assassin. They called her the Black Widow, and for good reason too. He had studied over her files for hours the night before, studying each feature and each service she had done. She had killed more men then he would like to think on. He wondered if she had slept with all of them or just the ones with money. Clint shook his head with a laugh and adjusted his cuffs before removing his sunglasses and scanning crowd.

And there she was. Beautiful. More beautiful than her fuzzy pictures had led on...and that could definitely pose as a problem.

"Head in the game, Barton," he whispered to himself, walking to the sofas placed comfortably in the lobby and took up a magazine to conceal his true nature. He watched her walk to the desk then eye the high and mighty around her. One man in particular she had paid close enough attention to and with a check, he knew that was the target.

He kept his eyes on the paper, for the most part, listening carefully for her room number and the sound of her heels trotting away. She had several days planned out and none seemed to be given any particular emphasis. Therefore one thought was certain; his job would have to be carried out before hers could be.

He didn't have a room. Not at this fancy hotel. What he had was a gun. Though it was not was he preferred, it was still something which, of course, was better than nothing. So, that evening, after spending much of his time sitting in the lobby, hoping to catch her outside of the hotel, he decided to go up to her room and play his part there instead.

The elevator ride was horrendous, being mixed with horrible music and an awkward bell boy who thankfully got off one floor before him. Bus boy...That gave him an idea.

Once to her floor, he quickly found her room and approached quietly. Placing one hand on the butt of his gun, he raised the other hand and gave the door a quick knock before calling out, "House keeping."

**MiyukiGainsborough: Chapter Two coming soon. Don't worry. Chapters will begin to get longer.**


	2. So, That Name?

**MiyukiGainsborough: Thanks for the reviews and all the faves. The fic might go a little quickly but not where it will pull away from the emotion of it all. I do plan on a special secret in later chapters.**

"House keeping."

Her head lifted and she looked towards the door. It was eight pm so house keeping at that hour was odd. Not to mention all the house keepers were female. The voice had clearly been male. Natasha closed her eyes and gave a light chuckle. So that's how it was going to be. The assassin was the target of an assassin herself. No matter what though, she vowed to finish the mission. "Just a moment," she called as she secured her second stocking. She pulled on her straless evening gown and walked to the door. If she played things right, could hold off her own assassination until her job was done. Then again, if he tried anything, he would be dead in seconds at her hand.

The door was opened and her serious green eyes met a light shade of gray. Before the male could move or even speak, she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. This was definitely different. He, first of all, didn't expect her to be half dressed, and in no way, had he thought she would be dragging him into the room. "Boy, your timing is wonderful. I can never get these dressed zipped by myself. Would you be so kind as to help?" she asked, turning her bare back to him. It was a dangerous move on her part but she was more than ready to defend herself if he tried anything.

His hand had fallen from his gun and instead, went to her zipper, sliding it up her back and clasping the hook and eye at the top. Alright, that was a poor move on his part. He could have just as easily taken the gun and placed it to her back, shooting a hole right through her. He should have...but instead just zipped up the dress, letting his eyes flicker up to look at her reflection in the mirror she stood before.

She ran her hands over the curls that had fallen loose from the bun her hair was in and watched him in the mirror. "You don't look like you're from any of the groups that have confronted me before. What's your name?"

He looked down; his hands as steady as they could be and itching to shoot the gun at his side. Instead, he walked around her and took a seat on the arm of a chair. First, a nervous itch came to the side of his face which he obliged before he rested his hands on his knees and looked away from her. He should have thought this one out a bit. A little less assassin dress and a little more bell boy, but here he was. "You mean you don't know?" he finally spoke up. "You've caught the eye of many agencies out there, Ms. Romanoff, but we assume only the best can take out down." He dared to look at her once more. "I have no intentions of failing this mission, ma'am."

Natasha turned to him and took one step forward. "And I'm guessing you're the best they have in whatever group you're in." She could believe he was the best but she was the one Black Widow picked from over a hundred girls training since they were young to become the Black Widow. She had high doubts that he would be able to kill her so easily unless somewhere they had really managed to train someone to be better than a Black Widow. She walked over to the bed and picked up one of heels laying on the fluffy blankets. "So...that name?" she asked once more, slipping on her shoes. She was actually slightly surprised that she was speaking to him as if he was a normal stranger and not an assassin ready to put a bullet into her heart. "You know everything about me. It only seems right that I at least know your name."

He watched her but only out the corner of his eye. He didn't want to tell her but for some reason, he did. "Clint Barton..." She would die at his hand so there was no harm in giving his full name but it was that he had felt like they were just normal strangers that scared him just a bit. Something was different about her but he could not tell what exactly it was.

"Clint..," she said softly, testing the name on her lips. Without her realizing it, the sides of her mouth had curled into a small smirk, a real bit of emotion that wasn't in any way faked. Giving a shake of her head, she moved over to the coffee table in front of the couch and took up her small clutch. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Agent Barton, but please excuse me. I have a gala to go to."

That was when he snapped back into the reality that she was an assassin and he had a job to do. He should have pulled out his gun right there and shot her, job done, but still, he ignored the obvious. Instead, he was on his feet and rushed towards her before she could make it to the door, taking her delicate wrist in his hand. "Hey, wait a second!"

Stopping, she kept herself facing the door for a moment as if having not heard him and some invisible force had stopped her. "Hm, Agent Barton, was there something that you needed?" In a mere second, she had twisted herself so that, despite the fact that he was holding her, she had the upper hand. From there, she swung her leg into his heels and knocked him back to the ground. She knelt to him and cocked an eyebrow. "The best they have? Look, Barton, we both have jobs to do here and you will get yours done. All I ask is that you give me twenty-four hours to complete mine. I know your job is supposed to be completed before mine but if this is going to be my final mission, it is important to me that I finish it."

Almost frozen with shock that she had quickly turned the situation around on him, he lay in silence as she spoke, his gray eyes staring in her green eyes. It wasn't even like she was begging him to let her do this; more of 'You can either make this easy and agree or we can duke it out right here.' He brought his hand up and ran it through his hair, never breaking eye contact with her. With a sigh, he replied, "Twenty-four hours."

"Ah, I knew you'd see it my way," she said, patting him on the shoulder before standing up and patting her gown. "Well, I am going to mingle with the rich and famous and get what I need. If you don't have a room here already then I give you permission to stay here if you wish. Just don't go through my things." She gave him a small wave and left the room.

The man didn't know what to think at that moment. He came into the hotel with the goal of finding and assassinating the Black Widow but instead, he found himself watching her walk out of the room. They had spoken almost like they we're friends and she had even invited him to stay in the room. Was she trusting him or just playing a game? Sitting up from the floor, his eyes stayed on the now closed door and mutliple curses came from under his breath. This definitely wasn't going by procedure. When this was all over and his report was filed, he would definitely get an earful.


	3. Into the Web

**MiyukiGainsborough: Thanks for the reviews, favs, and watches. This and 'Existence' are my highest viewed fics and it just inspires me to write more and more Clintasha/BlackHawk. Thanks for being awesome, everyone!**

**P.S.: I'm sorry if this fic does seem to be a little rushed.**

Natasha had done this routine so many times that she already knew it would work. She knew how to dress, how to present herself, how to talk; everything she did was her weapon in making a man fall into lust for her and Sidor Konovalov definitely was not immune to her power of seduction. Just like she had read about him, he had a weakness to beautiful, younger women and she fit that category so it only took one false identity [a journalist to be exact] and a few drinks and the CEO found himself more interested in her than in the gala.

With a perfect choice of words, she soon found herself in the elevator with the CEO and his bodyguard, listening to him tell her of what his company would be coming out with in the next year. Though he believed her to be listening, with her smiles and nods, she was really thinking of her assassination plan. With the plan she had already had in store for him, she wouldn't get to be there to witness the death of one of the biggest mafia bosses in Russia but the job would be done and no one would suspect her.

She was brought to one of the top levels of the hotel and straight to the presidental suite. The bodyguard took his own spot outside the suite as she entered the suite right after Konovalov. "Oh, this is lovely," she said, looking around the large, luxurious hotel room. She walked over to one of the few large windows and looked out at the lights of Moscow. Oh, how she loved her home country.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked her, removing his tuxedo jacket and placing it on a chair. He walked over to the mini-bar and looked through the decanters sitting there with multiple liqours inside.

She stepped over to him and ran her slender fingers over Konovalov's shoulders. "How about you sit and relax and I get the drinks?" she said in a soft, seductive tone. Yes, step away from the drinks and let her take care of you.

Konovalov let out a sigh and rolled his shoulders back. He leaned his head back for a moment then turned to the young woman. "That sounds wonderful, dear." He placed a simple kiss to her cheek and wandered to the couch where he sat and waited for his drink.

Once she had her back completely to him, her fake smile faded and she gave a disgusted look. Her eyes rolled as she stepped over to the mini-bar. "So, please tell me more about your company. I find it all quite fascinating," she spoke up, using her voice to cover the sound of her opening her clutch.

As Konovalov went on about the company, Natasha prepped the glasses then pulled out her secret weapon. The vial had to be no bigger than a tube of lipstick and was filled with a clear liquid. With a swift hand, she dumped the contents of the vial into the liqour decanter, leaving a little for his current glass. A tiny smirk played on her lips before she shifted back to a fake smile as she turned back to him, glasses in hand. "Hm, you should give me a tour after the auction," she said in her trained tone. She walked over to the couch and sat beside the older male. She placed down the two drinks on the table, keeping her eyes with his.

He looked down at the two glasses and, being the cautious mafia leader he was, took the glass that was closest to her. However, besides that one move, he didn't make it obvious that he believed her to attempt taking his life. He trusted no one. His eyes stayed on her as he swirled the liquid in the glass, replying, "Of course. I can even show you the places normal people aren't allowed."

She knew what he was doing; waiting for her to take a drink from the glass that had been meant for him to see if it was truly poisoned. Keeping her smile, she took up the other glass and took a drink. Bourbon...not what she had really be expecting despite having pour it but she drank it anyway. "Oh? Like..what places?"

A chuckle escaped from his lips and he brought the glass up. "I'll just have to show you, love." He stopped with the glass right at his lips and sniffed the liquor. "Smells...a little odd. Would you try it and see if it tastes weird to you?" he asked, holding the glass to her.

'He's sharp not to trust me but I know for a fact that poison doesn't have a smell or taste,' she thought to herself. Of course, she was already ready for something like this. She took the glass from him and took a big enough drink to tell him it wasn't poisoned. "Tastes fine to me," she said, handing the glass back to him. He looked from the glass back to her and took a drink as well before continuing his conversation about the factory.

'Right into the web,' she thought. Having trained at such a young age to become the Black Widow, she was given the various poisons she would use on missions in small doses so she eventually grew an immunity to them, especially the one she had just used. It was her favorite weapon to use when she needed to be descrete with her killings. The poison would slowly work itself into his system and eventually kill him in one of the most common ways in the world, leaving his death seeming natural and her hands visibly clean.

Listening to the man rave on and on about how amazing his company was and such only grew to be a bore to her especially since her job there was done. The last thing she was going to do was sleep with a man that was already dead. Her eyes looked to her watch and she faked a gasp. "It's that late already? I have to go!" She placed the glass down and took up her clutch as she stood from the couch. "I have an important piece to write and need to ready by tomorrow afternoon." The man followed her to the door, practically begging her to stay. "I wish I could but duty calls. See you tomorrow." She blew him a kiss and quickly escaped out of the suite.

She could breath a sigh of relief once inside the elevator. Another mission just about completed without her having to sleep with her target. She valued herself a lot more than the people who made her who she was did and hated to stoop to that level unless it was absolutely nessecary for her mission.

Reaching over, she pressed the button for her floor and leaned against the wall. Her hand tangled into her hair and pulled it from the bun it was in, letting the firey curls flow over her shoulders and down her back. That was one relief from the night. She couldn't wait to get back to her room and change into a comfortable outfit.

Back to her room...That reminded her of the agent that had been sent to kill her. She had offered for him to stay in her room but she wondered if he was still there. Would she walk into the room and find him watching television and having a drink of his own? Only two floors until her questions were answered.


	4. A Piece of Heart

**MiyukiGainsborough: Thanks for the love from here and Tumblr! The questions I get on my ask-blackhawk blog inspires my writing. Keep being awesome, everyone!**

Taking in a deep breath, she pushed her key into the lock and turned it. Once she heard the click of the tumbler, she turned the doorknob and slowly opened the door. Was he still inside waiting patiently for her return?

She stepped inside and looked straight to the couch. Sure enough, there was the dark haired male watching a Russian reality show on the television. With his back to her her, he seemed like he had not heard her come in yet but she knew that he did. She walked closer to the couch and eventually the coffee table came into few. The items she had left on the table had been put into a neat pile at the end of it and the rest was decorated in a few dirty plates and three or four beer bottles, Tolstiak brand to be exact.

She stayed silent as she moved over to the closet and tossed in her shoes. His voice didn't surprise her when it broke the silence between them. "Welcome back, Ms. Romanoff. Do away with Konovalov yet?" he asked before bringing his bottle to his lips and taking a drink of the beer. He listened to her move around the room but never once looked at her.

_Click!_

The bathroom lights flickered on and he could hear her unzipping her dress. "Konovalov will be dead in due time. I still have nineteen hours left, Agent Barton," she answered, letting the dress fall to her feet. She picked it up and placed it onto the bathroom counter, waiting for a response. He didn't say anything though, having really nothing else to say at that moment. She was only right, nineteen hours left to complete her mission before he killed her.

She turned on the sink and proceeded to wash the makeup from her face. She didn't want to admit it but it was nice to have someone else's voice to hear besides her own. Last thing she wanted to do that night was go to bed with Konovalov's voice in her mind, whispering the nasty things he had wanted to do to her.

Clint stood from the couch and picked up his dirty dishes and empty beer bottles. Once he heard the water shut off, he decided to speak again, "So, you have more in store for him tomorrow?" He placed everything on a little silver cart the room service had brought in when he ordered it. He reached over to a small covered platter and pulled off the silver cover to reveal a small cake with a cream colored sauce over it.

She pulled on a gray pair of sweatpants and a red tank top before walking out of the bathroom and finally facing him. "Not really," she trailed off as her eyes looked to the cake he had uncovered. "A Baba Romovaya cake," she said softly though she knew he had heard her. Out of all Russian sweets, that was her favorite and with late nights and busy days, she didn't have a lot of time to enjoy a sweet like that.

He looked up to ask her what she had meant by that when he noticed her eyeing the dessert. Though he had been trying hard not to show any emotion to the assassin since he met her those few hours ago, he couldn't help but to give a smirk at the almost pouty face she was making to the cake. "I figured you would be hungry whenever you came back." That was a lie. He had honestly not expected her to come back until the morning and was going to enjoy all the room service he could get since it was on her dime but something made him want to give her the cake.

Her eyes looked back to him with confusion that only asked why he would do such a thing for someone he barely knew and was going to kill in less than twenty hours. Still, she could not argue with that, nor her tired body, as she walked over to the silver cart and picked up the small plate. The sweet scent rose from the cake and hit her nose making her want to dive right in with her fingers but, she fought back her evil sweet tooth and picked up a fork. She walked over to the large suite bed and sat at the edge, diving the fork into the cake and putting a small piece into her mouth. "Where are you staying?" she asked him once she finished chewing and swallowing the cake.

Clearing his throat, he took a seat back onto the couch and opened a new beer. "At the moment, here. I'll catch a nap out in the lobby later when you go to bed," he answered. The agency believed he would get the job done within hours of arriving at the hotel so a room was unnecessary because of the conditions though, he would need to stay awake and keep an eye on her anyway.

She stayed silent and ate more of the cake as she listened to him speak. Once he stopped, she kept her eyes locked with his for a moment before looking back down to the cake and cutting another bite and putting it into her mouth. She fought back what she was about to say but found herself blurting out calmly [with a mouth full of cake], "You can stay in here if you'd like, Agent Barton." She looked back up at him and before he could really react, she added, "As long as you don't try to do anything to me while I'm sleeping." That was not how she meant to say it. "Don't try to kill me, I mean."

That annoying itch came back to the sides of Clint's mouth and he gave in, letting the smile appear. "I told you that you had twenty-four hours and I don't break my deals." He watched her hop off the bed and walked over to him, holding out the plate with half of the small cake on it. "You'll be able to rest fine with me in the room." He took the plate and placed it on his lap.

She kept her face straight, trying to keep herself from smiling as well though she had to admit that it was difficult to with him smiling at her. "Thank you," was all she said before walking into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Clint gave a groan as he sat up from the couch. He hand searched for his phone on the table and eventually found the button to make the screen light up. According to the bright screen [and the small amount of light trying to peek through the curtains], it was four in the morning and, despite that he wanted to only get a small nap to keep an eye on her, he fell asleep the moment he had laid on the couch.

She had sixteen hours left and would most likely be up in three or four hours, probably going to spend her last hours doing something she loved to do or...waiting for Konovalov's final moments. What was he going to do to pass the time until those sixteen hours were up.

He looked over to the bed and saw the woman still peacefully asleep among the fluffy, gold covers. The light blanket over his body was thrown back as he stood from the couch and proceeded to the bathroom. He was still tired but knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep until quite possibly the middle of the day.

He moved out of the bathroom once finished and went to move back to the couch to sit in silence until the Widow woke up. However, a sound broke the silence of the room and kept him from moving to the couch. Instead, that sound brought him passed the couch and close to the bed. That sound was a whimper and once close enough, he could see that though she was still asleep, she was crying.


	5. To Red Sqaure

**MiyukiGainsborough: I'm sorry this chapter took so long but thank you for all the favorites!**

"What are you going to be doing today?" Clint asked when he heard Natasha emerge from the bathroom. From his spot on the couch, he could feel warm steam from the bathroom when she opened the door. It was just a little after eight and the only words the two had said to each other since she woke up were 'good morning.' He heard her mumble something that, with the distance from the couch to the closet, sounded like 'twelve hours.'

She cleared her throat as she looked over the clothes hanging up in the closet, trying to pick what she wanted to wear on her last day. "Hm, while I patiently wait for Konovalov's death...," She reached into the closet and pulled out a black, knee-length pencil skirt and red, silk button down shirt combo. The two pieces were held to her body as she looked it over in the mirror, "I'm just going to take the day slowly and enjoy every minute. Maybe I'll take a walk through Moscow and get my final look at my country." Deciding that the outfit would be perfect, Natasha proceeded back into the bathroom to change, though she didn't shut the door as so she could continue talking to her future killer.

A walk through Moscow...her final walk through Moscow. Why did he feel bad when he thought of this? She had killed so many people and would kill more if he didn't stop her. He looked to the breakfast he had sitting on the table in front of them and couldn't help but scowl. Milk, juice, and both halves of a bagel each with a slice of tomato on them; enough for two people. He knew that breakfast wasn't one of the biggest meals of the day in Russia but it was still such a simple meal in front of him. Yet, that was what she wanted for her last breakfast.

He reached over and picked up one of the bagel halves, examining it like it was not of this world. "Can I go with you?" he asked before taking a bite of the bagel, tomato combo. Here he had thought it wouldn't taste good but he actually found himself enjoying it.

She had stopped in the middle of buttoning her shirt when he asked her the question. It surprised her that he asked but she thought about the fact that it had to be because he wanted to keep an eye on her. Of course, don't let her go out on her own. She could easily get a ride to the airport and leave the country. "That would be nice. I wouldn't mind the company," she replied with a small chuckle as she finished buttoning and tucking in her shirt.

Moving back into the main room, she locked eyes with the male who had stood up from the couch, holding one of the bagel combo plates in his hands. "You should eat before we head out though," he told her before moving around the couch and walking over to her.

She looked from him to the plate and back again as if she believed it to be poisoned. However, he had made the point already that he was a man of his word so she knew she could safely eat the food which she did, quite quickly. So many busy mornings had taught her to eat quickly to get the day going. She brushed crumbs from her cheeks and gave a chuckle. "Are you ready?"

He looked to the clothes he was wearing. Yesterday's outfit but he had come to Moscow without the intention to stay the night so he had nothing else to wear. It made him feel a little dirty but he was used to having to wear the same clothes for multiple days especially on missions. "I'm ready. Let's get out of here. Twelve hours left," he reminded her. His eyes stayed glued on her as she wandered over to the closet and slipped on a pair of black heels.

Once the shoes were on she stood straight and brushed her hair out of her face. "That's right and that means we're wasting time. Grab the room key and let's go." She nodded her head to the door before walking in that direction. Her eyes looked to a small black clutch sitting on the side table, the one she had with her last night. She picked it up and only removed a cell phone from it. When she could hear him step up behind her, she opened the door to the hotel room and walked out. There was no need to have any commuications with her boss. He didn't need to know that she was playing buddies with another assassin and waiting out her death. No, he would want her to kill him at the first moment she got then flee Moscow. It was time though. It was time for her to face her sins and pay for them.

Clint could see Natasha face brighten up when they stepped outside of the hotel. There were barely any clouds in the sky and the temperature was just right. Perfect day to be one's last day. One's...last day...

"Where do you want to go first?" he asked her, looking one way and then the other. He had only been to Moscow a couple of times before this mission and, of course, never had the time to check out the attractions.

Her face was straight as she looked around as well. She knew the area very well not only from countless missions but faint memories. "Everything I want to see is in the city center. So let's go there."

So the two began walking towards the city center. It was not too far away so they need not catch a ride and he knew she would enjoy the walk there. He watched as her head turned and looked at everything they passed, taking her final looks.

Another ping of pain in his chest. Another moment feeling bad he was going to have to do what he was sent to do.

The walk was quiet and he dared not say anything to break the silence between them. He wanted her to enjoy her time looking around.

Since the moment he met her, the Widow had really intrigued him. She seemed like a cold blooded assassin, no emotion for anyone unless it was faked to help her get through a job but even in the few hours, he had seen she was still just as human as he was.

His eyes stayed on the woman as she took a few steps in front of him, admiring the walls and buildings around her. "It's been...years since I've actually got to stop by here and look around," she said to him. "I remember...," her voice trailed off as she wandered to a lone bench and took a seat. "The memory is very faint but I remember sitting here with an older woman and tossing bread crumbs to the birds." Before he could even ask of the older woman, she answered his thoughts. "I don't know if she was my mother or if she was just a woman who was working in the Black Widow Ops program."

She took in a deep breath and looked to the high wall of Red Square. Her arm raised and she pointed to the top of the wall. "I assassinated a man up there. Well..it didn't look like I did it." She let out a soft chuckle though her face was a little sorrowful. "I used one of my poisons on him that drove him insane and within a few hours, he jumped from there." Her hand rested on her lap and she kept her eyes on the spot on top of the wall. "I was sitting right here on this bench when he did it too. I remember the same feeling of accomplishment I always get when I complete a mission."

He wanted to open him mouth and say something to her but couldn't. He felt as if he had no place to say anything at that moment. This was her day and if she needed to confess her sins to someone without going into a church then he was all ears for her.

She looked over him, unsure of why she had such an odd feeling now and she knew it was showing on her face. "I should feel like that after watching a poor man suffer...Am I sick person?" she asked him, her voice soft.

"No," he answered. "You were brought up to believe that was the right thing and I have to admit...a majority of the people you've killed deserved it for their actions."

She gave a light laugh and stood back up from the bench. "Agent Barton, I am not a saint for what I've done. I've done more bad than good than you'd know." She nodded her head for him to follow as she kept walking which he did quickly as to not lose her. "I've cause innocent deaths and more. I'm a fiend and it has taken me this long to actually put deep thought into what I've done. That's why I asked you for a deadline. That's why I'm going to let you kill me."

The two wandered over to the bronze statue of Kuzma Minin and Dmitry Pozharsky and that was when she spoke again, "Agent Barton...there are three main things that have really affected my life...three events have really affect the lives of many...Sao Paulo...the hosptial fire...and Drakov's daughter. These are the things that my death will make up for."

He stepped beside her but was not looking at the statue. No, he was too focused on the face full of sorrow that stared, not at the statue, but into blankness. Lost in her memories.


	6. The Sins of A Spider

**MiyukiGainsborough: Thanks for all the love and support for this fic. I really love how it is coming out and I can't wait to get started on more Clintasha/BlackHawk fics.**

* * *

It was four in the afternoon. She had taken him everywhere around the Red Square, even stopped into a small restaurant for something to eat. They exchanged stories as they wandered the area though it was mostly Clint talking. She felt ready to tell more of her sins to him but wanted to wait. She enjoyed listening to his stories of different missions he was on and even his slight boasting of his perfect aim. They both oddly felt relaxed in the each other's presence, not one feeling like the other was about to kill them.

The timer on her deadline, though, was at four hours.

After their wandering, they still found themselves back at the bench they had first stopped at. He watched her take a seat, lean her head back, and take in a deep breath. She shook here and there and he knew it wasn't from the cooler temperature. The decreasing time was starting to really hit her. Did she really fear death?

"Agent Barton...," her voice started softly, "...those three events I told you about eariler...Sao Paulo, the hospital fire, Drakov's daughter...those events haunt me all the time...Sao Paulo was horrible but not as bad as the other two events." She looked over to him for just a moment, as if checking to see if he was still listening. "I was in the city on a regular mission and my target was a heavy weapons dealer. I found him in a bar the first night I was there and pulled the same trick I did with Konovalov; slipped a poison in his drink that would eventually cause him to have a severe heartattack."

She saw his face twitch into a confused look so she continued, "That was the first and only time I ever made such a big mistake on my mission. The man I poisoned...he wasn't the heavy arms dealer I was looking for..." She looked down at her hands and watched them clentch into fists. "He was just a regular bus driver...a regular bus driver who's heartattack triggered during one of his bigger runs..." She inhaled slowly then let it out. "I caused one of the worst accidents in Sao Paulo...It killed so many people..."

Clint remembered hearing about that accident because it was the first time he had heard of the Black Widow. SHIELD had believed her to had really killed the bus driver on purpose. It had not made sense to him though since all the research showed that the bus driver had be just an innocent man. However, it also put her close to the top of SHIELD's top priority list.

He watched her stand from the bench and begin to walk into the direction of the hotel. He was quickly to his feet and at her side once more though he felt like he was about to collapse. The little sleep he had recieved was already starting to hit him. Sure, he was used to getting little sleep on missions but a string a sleepless missions put with nightmare filled nights when he could sleep, he was drained.

The two caught eyes and she could see how tired he was. She had actually noticed hours before but he had insisted on following her around. Clint wasn't sure at that moment but he thought he had seen a small smile come to her lips. He had realized that since he met her, she had been fighting a real smile around him. She had been showing the sorrow and pain of what she had done but she was not wanting to show the emotion of happiness. Did she not believe she deserved to feel such an emotion?

"So..," he started softly as he walked beside her, "Sao Paulo...the hospital fire is next?" He watched her nod, her eyes staying on the sights in front of them.

"I was still in the Black Widow Ops program when it happened. At the time, I believed what I did was right and that there was no way out of the program unless that way was death." She held her hands up and looked at them from palm to the back of her hands as if the stains of blood were forever soaked into her hands. "I was sent after a trainee Widow who managed to run and drop off our radar. However, it wasn't too long until her hiding place was found; a small hospital just outside of Saint Petersburg. As the best they had, I was sent after her. I couldn't go in disguise because I already knew she would catch me quickly so I just went normally. That fight...was tougher than I had expected. One small detail I had not been told was that she was just as good as me except actually had a conscience at the time. She was obviously smarter..." Her voice had a slight hiss in it with her last sentence.

"She managed to pull the fight outside, trying to put distance between us and the hospital though I pinned her before she could get too far. I had believed at the time that she had a soft spot for the people inside. I guess I would have too if I allowed emotion into my life, but I was wrong of her intentions. Right before I killed her, she laughed and said that I was nothing but a robot. I would always put my missions before the lives of innocents and that this day would be my fault. I didn't know what she meant until I heard the screams and explosions from the hospital."

"She set fire to the hospital knowing you wouldn't save anyone...," he mumbed, almost in complete awe that someone would do that. He was used to hearing of people having such sick minds though.

"There was nothing I could do," she told him. "I just left..."

The two fell silent at that. He knew the story was over and he didn't want to ask of the last event until she was ready. She could live with everything running through her mind but when she had to speak of it, which was obviously never, it was painful. Now, as they walked back to the hotel, he would just look to his feet and let her enjoy the sights. Take in her last looks of her country.

* * *

Clint fell onto the couch in Natasha's suite and laid his head back. He could fall asleep right then if he allowed it but was staying awake just until everything was over. His dreary eyes watched the red headed woman walk over to the mini fridge and look inside. "Miss Romanoff...," he began slowly, "...you'll have to tell me how Drakov's daughter is the worst event in your life."

"Straight to the point, Barton," she replied, her back to him as she pulled out a bottle of scotch. She remained silent as she pulled out a small glass and poured a small amount of the whiskey into it. Long legs brought her over to the couch and sat at the other end, her eyes not daring to look into the blue pools that were his. "Drakov's daughter...Valeria Drakov...this is my longest story and it doesn't even begin straight with Drakov."

She cupped the glass tightly in both hands and kept her normal composure as she began to speak. "Always working alone and never wanting true emotional contact with anyone, I was a bit lonely..until I made my first two friends, a young Russian mother named Irina and her three year old daughter Nika. Whenever I had free time, I'd visit them. We always had the best time together." She brought the glass to her lips and let some of the golden colored liquid slide down her throat. "Alik Drakov, one of the most feared mafia leaders in Russia, was after me because I've stopped so many of his plans, made him lose millions of rubles, killed plenty of his men, and he decided to get revenge. He tortured and killed Irina and Nika."

Clint looked down to her hands which where heavily shaking the glass of scotch and, fearing that she would breaking it with her bare hands, took it from her and placed it on the table. As if she had been in a different world, she quickly looked to him and continued her story. "I didn't give him any time to prep for his death. Well, except for him to hire more bodyguards," she said with a chuckle. "After killing those who stood in my way, I found Drakov. He put up a great fight really but I've always been better. As he died, I told him of the lives he took, the mother and her innocent child."

"And...Drakov's daughter?" he asked confused as to where the said daughter played in.

"In my blind rage, I didn't notice the room we were in was that of a young girl and that girl, Valeria, had been hiding under her bed." Pain and anger showed on her beautiful face and she eyed the scotch sitting on the table. "She was screaming and trying to hit me but I simply blocked her every attack. Before I left, she vowed to one day get revenge for her father...I've caused that poor girl to come into the life I've so desperately tried to escape from. That was the first time I ever really thought about the lives I effect when I kill someone."

"You only did what you saw was right to get revenge for Irina and Nika. Every choice we make have some kind of consiquence. It may not directly effect us but it effects someone. Sometimes we can never be sure what's going to happen at the end of a mission," he told her. He also looked to her glass of scotch but decided against giving it to her, still believing she would break it.

"Or what will happen during a mission." Natasha's eyes met his finally pointing out what had been going on for the past twenty-four hours. Two master assassins acting like friends. She shook her head and looked away, wanting to already forget about the things she had told him. Her regrets always played out in her head but saying them out loud made her chest heavy.

She picked up the remote control and turned on the television. On the screen was an American action movie with Russian subtitles. Just a few hours left until her death, she figured she'd relax and enjoy her final moments.

Clint had kept his eyes on the red headed assassin as she stared at the television and was starting to wonder if he should go through with his mission or spare her.

Heavy eyelids started to drop as sleep began to take over his body. Maybe just a small nap wouldn't hurt. He knew she would not go anywhere so he would just subcome to sleep.

Just...a little...nap...


	7. Do You Wish to Repent?

**MiyukiGainsborough: I really could not wait to get to this chapter. This would have to be my favorite in the whole fic. Enjoy.**

* * *

Clint awoke and the hotel room was only dimly lit. He quickly sat up and looked around, finding the female assassin nowhere in the room. "You've got to be kidding me," he groaned as he jumped up from the couch. Quickly he ran to the bathroom to see if she was there and still she was nowhere to be found. Stepping back into the main room, he ran his hands through his hair. "You've got to be kidding me."

His eyes moved to the large bed and saw that every one of her suitcases were there, aligned perfectly and stuffed to their capacity. Even the small bag of weapons was sitting there. Did she flee the country without taking any items?

He charged from the room and into the elevator. Maybe she had not made it far yet. Maybe he could catch her. One cletched fist lightly pounded at the wall as he watched the glowing numbers blink with every floor the elevator hit. His patience was running out and he wanted to shout every time the elevator stopped and someone else got in or off.

Once the elevator stopped on the ground floor, he was the first one out of the cramped space and straight to the front desk. However, before he could say anything to the desk clerk, his eyes went to the black body bag on a stretcher being wheeled out of the hotel. "W-what happened?" he asked the desk clerk, though he had a feeling he already knew what was going on.

"Oh, so sad," the older Russian woman spoke, "Mr. Konovalov passed away. His bodyguard said he had a severe heart attack."

He had been right. Natasha's plan was carried out faster then she had expected. "T-that's horrible but, uh, have you seen the woman I was with earlier?" he practically stuttered out in his semibroken Russian.

The clerk at the front desk nodded and replied, "Beautiful red head? Yes, she left an hour ago. Was walking in the direction of Red Square."

Clint took a moment to think about it and rushed from the hotel and towards Red Square. The streets were lit by lamps and car headlight and there were less people on the sidewalk then there had been during the day. The desk clerk had said that Natasha had been walking. If she was going to the airport to flee the country then she would have taken a cab. Maybe he would find her right back on that bench staring at the high wall of Red Square.

As he ran, he looked to the watch on his wrist and saw it to be almost nine p.m. Her deadline was an hour past due.

"Excuse me," Clint spoke as he stopped an elderly Russian woman, "have you seen a young, tall woman with long, dark red hair?" Despite his Russian being practically perfect, he still used his hands to try and describe Natasha.

The woman gave a smile and nodded. "Yes, yes. I saw her. Beautiful girl. She went into the church a while ago. Must have had a lot to think about."

He thanked the woman and went straight to the small church, hoping that Natasha would still be inside. Even hoping she had not taken care of the job herself.

Sure enough, when he entered the small church and looked upon the dark brown wooden pues, there was the head of dark red hair. She had changed from the red silk shirt and black skirt and was now wearing a knee length green dress. Her hair stood out even more among the shade of green then it usually did. Had she come to ask for forgiveness? He was quiet as he slowly moved closer to the back of the long line of pues. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"If you were about to die, wouldn't you want to repent for your sins? I know I've done so much wrong but I just hope there's a spot for me in whatever paradise is waiting on the other side." She stared up at the large cross at the front of the church. Never had Natasha thought of anything related to religion but she couldn't help but come to the little church when her deadline was up. "I take it...Konovalov has passed?"

Of course, while everyone in the hotel believed the heart attack had been a natural cause, he had known it had been her doing and he actually wished to ask her more of the poison she used but their friendliness with each other was over. "Yes," was the only thing he would say on the subject. "Can we just...finish this?" His usually steady hands shakingly pulled his gun from its holdster and pointed it at the back of her head.

Her eyes closed and she took in a deep breath as she stood from the pue and faced him. "Agent Barton...can I at least say that you made these last twenty-four hours the best in my whole life?" Her face remained neutral like always despite such a caring sentence coming from her red painted lips. Her green eyes were staring straight into his blue eyes.

He wanted to tell her to close her eyes. Stop looking at him and remind him of the few hours they had spent together. He couldn't pull himself away frrom her mesmerizing green eyes. They were the eyes of the person who regreted everyday of her life of an assassin. Regreted not double checking her target and causing a large deadly crash. Regreted turning her back on a burning hospital despite the screams she heard. Regreted letting her anger blind her and killed a man in his own daughter's bedroom. She wanted to do good.

His shaking hands holstered the gun and instead replaced it with a cell phone. "Fury is going to be pissed," he mumbled as he dialed a number.

Natasha could only stare and wonder what he was doing. She was ready to face death and here he was delaying it even longer. "Ag-" She was cut off by Clint's raised hand for her to be quiet.

"It's Barton...Yeah, I know I was supposed to report hours ago...I know! I know!" he argued with the person on the other line. The voice was faint from the phone but, of course, from where she was standing, the other person was yelling very loudly. "Please, sir, just hear me out..." His eyes caught hers. "She needs a second chance with us."

That was when the faint voice on the other line got louder causing Clint to pull the phone away from his ear. She watched him give a small laugh and shake his head then put the phone back to his ear. "Sir, I promise we wont regret this." After a few more words from the other line, Clint hit a button on his cell phone and placed it back in his pocket. "Just as I had said."

This has to be the first time she had seen him smile since they had met. Every so often she had caught smirks or smiles trying to break through, though it seemed that he had been holding back emotions like she always did. She cleared her throat and asked, "Agent Barton...what was that?" From their end of the conversation, anyone could figure out what he had just done but she felt like she needed to hear him say it.

He took in a deep breath and took a step toward her. "Are you serious about turning your life around? Repent for your sins?" he asked her. He watched her give a small nod, green eyes staying locked with his. "My boss is willing to take you in."

"Take me in to what exactly?" Her head tilted slightly to the side, her wavy, red hair flowing over her shoulders.

With his handsome smile, he answered, "The Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."


	8. He's Friendly

**MiyukiGainsborough: I'm so sorry this is so delayed! It's been a bit crazy since I got married. This is a short chapter but I'm already hard at work on the next one. Enjoy!**

XXX

"I don't know why I let you talk me into this, Barton," Fury groaned. His one good eye looked through the window into the small waiting room where the red headed woman sat. Her posture was perfect just sitting in the wooden chair, her danty hands folded on top of themselves and placed in her lap. Her eyes were looking around at the bare white walls of the waiting room. Obviously their organization had no one they were really looking to impress. She stopped for a moment and, feeling the eyes upon her, glanced their way, looking at the two men through the window.

Fury was quick to look away, back to Clint who gave Natasha and small smile before turning to his boss. "Really, sir, if she really wanted to continue doing what she was doing, she never would have agreed to come with me. Hell, she would have killed me the second I fell asleep."

"You lowered your guard around her?" the black male asked in a stern voice.

The archer gave an 'oops' like grin and shrugged. "What do you expect after sending me on four missions back to back?" He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Not the point, sir. Trust me on this. If anything, make her my partner."

Fury gave him a dull look and replied, "A spider and a bird would not be the perfect team."

He could only admit that Clint had a point. She was reported to have been working on her own for the past few years so she would have no real point in sneaking into an unknown government organization and, if what he had said about falling asleep around her was true, she really was no threat. He had no reason to disbelieve one of his top agents so, the one-eyed director responded, "Well, get her."

Clint nodded his head to his boss and moved over to the door leading to the waiting room. He only cracked it open a bit and stuck his head in, catching eyes with the red head who looked that way the moment the door clicked. "Alright, Widow, you're up," he called with a smile. She stood up quickly and passed through the door once he held it open from her. She took a spot next to Clint as if she were a child clinging to their parent when in front of strangers.

"Thank you for accepting me. I hope I can be a great addition to your organization," she greeted Fury professionally. She felt a little strange being herself in front of more then one person. Usually when she was around others, it was when she was in disguise and staking them out to kill them. It was definitely something new she would have to get used to.

Fury simply gave the woman a nod before looking back to the archer. "Entertain her until I get the paperwork ready." He watched Clint return the nod and turn his back to start walking. "Oh and Agent Barton," Fury started, waiting for the male to turn back and look at him, "Don't make me regret this choice." He did not wait for a response. Instead, turned on his heel and began walking the opposite way.

"He's friendly," Natasha joked, glancing over to Clint.

Clint shrugged and gave a laugh. "He takes some getting used to but he's a great boss and a damn good soldier." He clasped his fingers together and stretched his arms over his head. "So, I should have a good hour or so to entertain you until he has all the boring paperwork ready. Well, two hours if he gets distracted by different things around here. What do you want to do?"

She had not really expected the question as it reminded her of how he had asked the same thing over twenty-four hours before when she still had a deadline before her death. There was relief in her gut this time though as even his voice was different this time around. "Um, what do I want to do?" she asked mainly to herself. She didn't know what there was to do around the seemingly plain building.

The archer couldn't help but smile seeing that she seemed flustered trying to think of something to do. "How about a movie? That should pass enough time," he asked her in an amused tone. He placed his hand on her back and started to walk along with her. "We have access to any movie or television show you want just take your pick and we'll watch it, popcorn and everything."

Natasha looked to him, her eyes wide like some kind of curious puppy. "Any movie?"


	9. A Simple Glance

**MiyukiGainsborough: Another short chapter but this one needed to be short for the adorableness of the scene. Heehee.**

XXX

It was definitely an interesting sight from within one of the lounges within the large base; lights out, a movie playing quite loudly on the large television and surround sound, and only two people sitting on the large couch. The two assassins were seated on each side of the large couch, a good distance in between them.

Natasha was on the far left, sitting Indian style with a bowl of popcorn on her lap. The look on her face; complete and total fascination with what was playing on the large television screen. Clint, on the far right, was resting his elbow on the arm of the couch and his temple on his balled up hand. The look on his face; complete and total boredom.

He had told her that she could pick any movie that she wanted to watch. Her trust was already gained but he didn't want her to think of him just as an ally and co-worker. He wanted to be her friend and, even after only spending over twenty-four hours with her, he should have known somewhat of the movie she would have picked.

_'Walking The Streets of Moscow'_, a seventy-eight minute long, black and white Russian romantic comedy released in 1964. When Clint told the red haired assassin that she could pick any movie, her choice was immedietely the classic.

As they had walked to the lounge, Natasha's face was lit with a beautiful smile as she talked about the movie. How she had watched it while on an assignment much like the one they had met on and that first night as she watched the fantastic film and enjoyed her favorite Baba Romovaya cake, she actually felt like she wasn't just some kind of killing machine.

"It feels good to show true emotion," she had admitted during their walk, keeping the smile as she looked to him. She wasn't exactly emotionless and cold; she just never had someone to really share such emotions with.

Natasha had broken away from her movie for a moment to think about that moment before they had made themselves comfortable. How everything had chanced for her in the span of a day...and she liked it.

She slowly turned her head to the right and looked over to Clint. She wasn't even the least bit surprised to see the archer bored out of his mind. The Widow never took him for the romance movie fan.

As if sensing the eyes upon him, Clint's head turned to her and their eyes locked. Typical Clint would have looked away quickly and pretended to actually be enjoying the movie. Instead, he just gave her a smile, something reassuring, as if to say 'I'm still here' and seeing his boyish smile, her own soft pink lips curled into a smile before looking back to the movie.


	10. Strike Team Delta

**MiyukiGainsborough: Yay for new inspiration! Also, the moment you have waited for is coming!**

XXX

"Alright, Delta, don't you fucking disappoint me," the heavy voice of Director Fury called through the ear pieces of Hawkeye and Black Widow. Through all the explosions and gun shots going off around them, they were a bit surprised they could even pay attention for a second to listen to him.

Hawkeye peeked over the top of their barricade and pulled back an arrow. "Yeah, yeah. You say that during every mission," he chuckled, releasing the arrow and sending it right into an enemy's chest.

The Widow pressed her back against the barricade and started to reload the two pistols in her hands. "You would think after two years of working together, he would know that we don't disappoint," she replied to her partner, green eyes glancing over the barricade to catch her next target [if Hawkeye didn't get it first.] Her attention quickly moved to that of an enemy jumping over their barricade and moving straight into Hawkeye's blind spot. She was quick; moving from her right knee to her left one, spinning around the archer and putting herself right between him and the enemy. The moment she was in between, she pressed the trigger on her gun and sent a bullet right through the man's throat, making him drop to the ground.

He glanced over his shoulder for only a second to see the woman and dead enemy behind him. "I'd be dead without you, Nat," he said with a smirk, releasing another arrow from his bow.

"Damn right," she replied, shifting around him to take down another enemy. After two years of working together, the two assassins that had once been ready to take down the other, were flowing perfectly together. The best team in SHIELD.

XXX

Clint opened the large pantry in the SHIELD Headquarters kitchen and stepped inside. "Hm, what to make," he hummed to himself, one hand rubbing a red cotton towel through his light brown hair.

Outside of the pantry, Natasha took up an apple from a large bowl of fruit and took a bite as she hopped onto the large metal island. "We could just find one of the cooks and have them make us something," she said with her mouth full, her legs swinging back and forth off the island.

It was around midnight and the two had only been back at the headquarters for an hour. Right after they had received their congratulations from the team that was working the night shift, they both got much-needed showers then met up in the kitchen for a bite to eat. Both were dressed in casual sweats that had their Agent names embroidered on the upper left part of their sleeveless tops and the elastic of their shorts. Clint had a towel still around his neck and Natasha had pulled her wet hair into a plastic clip.

"You are cruel, you know that? Wanting to wake people up to make you food," he teased, coming out of the pantry with a box of children's chocolate cereal. "Who needs to cook when you have Count Chocula?" He flashed the front of the cereal box to her then moved around the island to get the bowls and spoons they needed.

She cocked an eyebrow and took another bite of her apple. "I can't believe they actually keep that stocked for you. You are such a child," she joked right back. During her first days with SHIELD, she mainly stuck around Clint since he was the only person she was actually comfortable with. That and Fury put Clint in charge of showing her the headquarters and training her. She had definitely questioned his love of teeth rotting, children's cereals when he first pulled out a box of Trix.

"Heeyy," he eyed her as if taking offense to her words then replied, "you love the Count and you know it."

She gave a soft laugh and shook her head, knowing he was right. She had definitely gained a love of the same cereals as him. "Just shut up and pour the bowls."

XXX

Natasha was fighting back a yawn as she stepped into the debriefing room, dressed in her special, black cat suit. Clint looked just as tired as she was but was dressed in his mission uniform just as she was. Part of her was expecting him to still be dressed in his pajamas and munching on a bowl of cereal. "Are you ready for whatever they're about to make us do?" she asked, rubbing her still aching shoulder.

He tilted his head to look at her and gave a fake pout. "No. I was all warm in my bed and dreaming fighting aliens. I want to go back to bed and finish the dream."

"Oh, Barton, I know you're more than eager to get back out there," laughed a male voice as it entered the room.

Clint's head rolled to his other shoulder and looked to Coulson as he walked over to where the two agents sat. "Fury sent you to give us our next job? Is he scared Natasha's going to ninja flip him across the room since we just got back from a job?" He looked to Natasha who was laughing quietly and rubbing the bridge of her nose.

"He's out on a job of his own," replied the older man as he looked down at the folder in his hands.

Natasha put her hand down and focused on Coulson. "Where are we being sent this time?" she asked.

Coulson tossed the folder on the table right in front of the two assassins and replied, "Budapest."


	11. Let's Play Dress Up

**MiyukiGainsborough: I'm working hard at updating more often. My Avengers fandom burst has seemed to died down a bit but that's nothing a couple of viewings of the movie won't cure. [Kind of been addicted to The Boondock Saints lately. haha] Enjoy!**

XX

"Ugh, I hate these damn things," groaned Clint as he tried to tie his bow tie. "I'm investing in a clip on!" Though he and Natasha had both been on many missions where he needed to wear a suit or a tuxedo, Clint had never learned how to tie a bow tie, now matter how many times Coulson explained it or Natasha did it for him.

He heard a laugh from the bathroom and watched Natasha step out in a stunning violet, floor length gown, her long red hair, pulled up into a neat high bun. "What am I going to do with you?" she teased as she walked over to him. She took the ends of the light piece of black fabric and tied it just perfectly, not even bothering to explain it to him again. "There. Lookin' good, Barton."

The woman moved across the shared suite and slipped on a pair of black heels. "You as well, Romanoff, like always." He double checked himself in the mirror and turned back to her. "Time for you to do what you do best."

Natasha chuckled and stood straight, taking up a small, red clutch. "Seducing rich men is not what I do best," she replied, a playful smirk on her beautiful maroon colored lips.

x

Their cover was that of a rich, married couple who had put in a good amount of money towards the benefit that was being celebrated that night but for Natasha to do her work, Clint had to stay at a distance and pretend to be distracted so she could play the 'naughty wife.' With the right words and body language, Natasha could sneak away with their target and get out all of the useful information they needed. He preferred being in a higher spot to keep an eye on her but this was one of those missions he would have to do without for the time being.

He stayed back, by the buffet table, chatting up a diplomat while sipping on a glass of wine. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her with the army general, their target, smiling and giggling like the flirty wife she was pretending to be. He didn't even have to look to the general to see if her fake flirting was working not just because he knew it was but there was this odd sense of jealousy in him.

The feeling wasn't very new to him and had started not too long after Natasha had joined SHIELD. He wanted to just believe it was because of all the bonding they had done and how close of friends they were. He knew exactly how she felt about relationships especially those with other co-workers, as he had witnessed when brave men they worked with asked her to dinner or to get a drink. He had heard her even say once, "love is for children." Her past had made a shell around her that tried to block out emotions she saw as useless and it never bothered him.

He would doubt that the feelings he had for her were love but he wouldn't doubt that he definitely wanted to break the hands of the general for placing his hand on Natasha. Of course..the moment Natasha got the man somewhere private, she would be sure to hurt the man for information for touching her.

Clint laughed at a joke the woman at his side had made even though he had missed all of it then looked back to Natasha location. The red haired agent was being led to the nearest elevator by the general and the archer could only chuckle.

_'Showtime.'_


End file.
